24 Hours: An intense, suspenseful psychological thriller (23 page)

W
e are all the same
, us humans, and yet so very different. The same things break our hearts and fuck us up; yet your damage is not mine. I struggle to understand my own story – it will take a lifetime’s work – yet yours seems simple. But in the end, if we don’t try – and even if we don’t ever quite get it – well, we’re a long time dead.

I changed out of the green dress as quickly as I could, as if it had brought me all the bad luck I’d experienced tonight, and as I hung it carefully in the cupboard, I remembered Jolie’s fury. What exactly had triggered it? Was it just the pressure cooker, the insecurity of living with Sid? I knew what that could do to the soul; enough to break the strongest spirit. But I also knew so little about the girl, other than she’d grown up in rural Gloucestershire, been scouted whilst at the very proper Cheltenham Ladies’ College, had done some modelling before almost overnight success with her first single. Oh, and Jay Z loved her.

Downstairs, Emily and I drank tea at the kitchen table and we didn’t talk about Sid, or Jolie, or the past few days. We just watched Polly draw pictures of dinosaurs, and then drip butter from her toast and marmite all over the stegosaurus, making her weep plaintively.

‘She’s exhausted,’ I pulled her onto my knee and dried her tears. ‘Too much excitement for one night.’

‘I’ll put her to bed,’ Emily offered.

‘I need another chapter of
James and the Giant Peach
,’ Polly sniffed. ‘At least one chapter. And can you read the bit again when Aunt Spiker gets squashed?’

‘Come on then, Madame,’ Emily picked her up and kissed her. ‘We’ll see what we can do.’

I tidied the kitchen up a little and then I called up the stairs.

‘I might just pop to the shop, Em. We’re not going to have enough milk for the morning.’

‘Fine,’ she called down. ‘See you in a sec. Get some biscuits, would you?’

Outside, the night was freezing, but I savoured the cold air. Christmas wasn’t far off, and I thought, I must talk to Emily about plans. It would be the first one since Sid and I separated. The horrible anniversaries of a divorce constantly assailed me at the moment; the antithesis of the milestones of a happy marriage.

In the corner shop, I bought milk and some chocolate digestives, and trailed home again. At the end of the next road I stopped for a moment to remove a stone from my shoe, and a car pulled in behind me, dimming its headlights. I walked on.

The car began to move too. I glanced back. I had a nasty feeling it was Suzanne again. I sped up, almost jogging the last fifty metres, ringing the doorbell when I realised I’d forgotten my keys.

Emily looked a little worried when she answered. ‘You’ve got a visitor,’ she whispered. ‘I tried to get rid of him, but he was so insistent.’

I walked down the stairs to the kitchen, my heart pounding.

But it wasn’t Sid. It was Mal.

‘Mal—’ I began, exhausted – but he held out a hand to silence me.

‘Please, Laurie, let me just say what I came to and then I promise I’ll go. I haven’t got much time anyway. I’m going away at the weekend, and I need to say this now.’

I relented. After all, it was me who continually banged on about bloody ‘closure’ to all my clients.

‘Okay,’ I slumped at the table. ‘Go on then.’

I could hear Emily padding about upstairs and then the murmur of the television, and I was vastly comforted by her presence. Perhaps, I thought, perhaps I should talk to her about getting a place together.

‘Laurie, where are you?’ Mal half-smiled. ‘You’re not listening, are you?’

‘Sorry,’ I looked up at him. ‘I’m all ears, Mal, really.’

‘I’ll be quick,’ he leant against the counter opposite me, rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I know you’re tired, and God, I am too. I just wanted to tell you myself, I’m going to the States for a bit, on secondment. To train some geeks in Wisconsin. I need to get away for a while; I need to let Suzanne calm down a bit.’

‘Ah yes,’ I said. I picked at a knot in the wood of my chair. ‘The fair Suzanne. You know she’s made a formal complaint about me?’

‘Yes,’ he looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘And I can’t apologise enough. But you know, it’s not the first time.’

‘It is for me.’

‘No, what I mean is, she’s done it before. She thought I was having an affair with one of Leonard’s teachers in his last school. She made an accusation there too.’

‘God,’ I thought about Suzanne’s calm manner. ‘I’m sorry. She really needs some help.’

‘Yeah I know,’ he said ruefully. ‘But she always refuses. And she’s almost pathologically jealous. That’s why I left her. Or that’s one of the reasons.’

I looked at him hard, and he met my gaze calmly. I thought, I have to choose someone to believe between the two of them – one of them must be telling the truth. And frankly, Suzanne had proven herself extremely unstable, and he really had done nothing wrong.

‘But what about Vejer, Mal?’ I asked. ‘How did that come about? It seems such a coincidence.’

‘I’m still not quite sure,’ he said. ‘I think it really
was
a coincidence of sorts. Suzanne saw the ad for the house on the board at the Vale Centre apparently.’

I remembered my chat with Robert. ‘But what was she doing there?’

‘She’d been referred back for CBT to help with her obsessiveness. We’d been talking about a final holiday, mainly for Leonard’s sake. Ease the blow. I swear I knew nothing about you going there—’

‘But Polly wrote our address in the visitor book.’

‘Which Suzanne must have seen, I think. She remembered you. She’d seen you in the press, I think, with your … with your ex.’ He looked away for a moment, abashed. ‘She simply hated you.’

‘Why?’

‘Why expect anything very rational from her? I’ve learnt not to. I don’t know, Laurie. She blamed the couples’ counselling for all sorts of things. Said it made things worse. She blamed everyone apart from herself.’

‘So why did you come here? To this part of London.’

‘She got a transfer, as I told you. It was all very sudden, after the holiday. I just followed her to be near Leonard. She said she needed a change when I moved out, and it made no odds to me what part of England I got a shoddy bed-sit in. As long as I was near my kid, you know.’

The doorbell buzzed. Who the bloody hell was that now? I stood, but I could hear Emily go to the door and open it.

There was a muttered exchange for a minute or two before Emily’s voice started to rise querulously.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Mal, ‘I’d better just—’

Sid was standing on the doorstep, and from her stance, it was obvious that Emily was trying not to let him in.

‘I just wanted to explain,’ he said. Sid looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept for a week.

‘Explain what?’ I spoke over Emily’s shoulder. ‘Polly’s in bed. Go home, Sid.’

‘I will. I just wanted to apologise for Jolie’s behaviour.’

‘Okay. Apology accepted. Shut the door, Em.’

‘I can’t believe you’re hiding behind your minion,’ he snapped.

‘Minion?’ Emily and I echoed together.

‘What are you even doing here?’ Sid said nastily to Emily.

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ she responded tartly, but she seemed shaken by his venom. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Stepping away, she melted into the other room, which was unusual. She normally stood up to Sid.

‘I just wanted to say, about Jolie. It’s just … she …’ Sid ran a hand through his hair, no longer as sleek as earlier. ‘She just lost a baby. Last week. It’s really shaken her. And then … well, she obviously drank far too much tonight. It’s made her a little—’

‘It’s okay,’ I intercepted. I didn’t want to hear about it; it was too painful to even imagine Sid and Jolie’s child. ‘It’s understandable. Miscarriages are incredibly traumatic. I’m sorry,’ I finished lamely.

‘I just … at the opening. I didn’t want you to be embarrassed like that.’

‘Oh, Sid.’ We stared at one another miserably. ‘What a bloody mess.’

‘You’re telling me.’

‘You know,’ I could hardly bear to look at him, ‘I think it may be better if you don’t see Polly for a bit. Until things …’ I ploughed on. ‘Until Jolie has calmed down.’

‘You what?’ Sid exploded.

And then his eyes narrowed further and he was looking at something behind me, and my heart sank as I realised that Mal had appeared from the kitchen.

‘What the fuck is he doing here?’

‘Frankly, Sid, that’s none of your business.’

‘I’m asking you.’

‘And I’m telling you. You’d better go.’

‘I’m not going anywhere. This is my bloody house.’

‘Which you no longer pay the mortgage on.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘What is the point? That I’m not allowed to have friends over? Grow up, Sid.’

‘You fucking grow up.’

‘Don’t talk to her like that,’ Mal said equably. ‘I think she wants you to leave.’

‘Oh does she?’ Sid’s teeth were practically bared. ‘And who the fuck asked you?’

‘No one. But I don’t think that’s any way to talk to a lady.’

‘Really? I can’t see any ladies round here.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I laughed, though I’m not sure what the joke was.

‘Mate,’ Mal said, a little less calmly. ‘You heard Laurie. Please stop insulting her, and please leave.’

‘I’ll kill you, Laurie, before I see you with this prick.’

And then I was on the floor as Sid hurled himself across me at Mal. By the time I’d picked myself up, Sid’s hands were round Mal’s neck, and though Mal was the bigger man, Sid’s fury was such that he was utterly ferocious.

‘Get off him,’ I screamed, pulling at Sid, but he shook me off and I fell back against the wall, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow.

Now Mal managed to get one of Sid’s hands off his neck, swinging punches blindly, but Sid regrouped. He was relentless, like a demon, like the fighting dogs I saw in the park, goaded on to attack.

And then there was an almighty crack as Emily brought a vase down over Sid’s head.

Sid fell back, panting, blood almost immediately running down his face. Mal immediately stood over him and then I heard a whimper and looked up and Polly was standing at the top of the stairs, thumb in her mouth, Toy Bear in hand, just staring at us all.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ I said, and I ran up the stairs to her. ‘Daddy just fell over.’

Sid managed a weak smile, lifting his shirt to his eye to wipe away blood. ‘I’m fine, Pols. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he croaked. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Mal looked up at me. ‘I think maybe we should go.’

‘Yeah maybe you should,’ Sid sneered. ‘’Cos I’m not moving.’

And something in me snapped. This house, tainted by our ruined love, was no good for Polly or I. Sid was still obviously unstable, more so perhaps than ever. I knew I had to stop him seeing our daughter for a while, though I knew my words had just inflamed his mood. Although it made me want to curl up in the corner with the guilt.

I gathered Polly up, wrapping the red cardigan over her pyjamas and I followed Mal out to his car.

‘I’ve got to go, Em,’ I muttered at her and she nodded. Her face was deathly white, and she still held a piece of the broken vase in her hand.

‘I’ll sort this mess out,’ she said. ‘And lock up.’

‘Thanks. I’ll call you from my mother’s.’

‘Shame it wasn’t a Grayson Perry,’ I heard Sid say as I led a sobbing Polly down the stairs into the garden.

Mal drove us round the park to his shabby little flat, where we had a cup of tea and Polly had a hot chocolate, quiet now, sitting on my knee in shocked silence whilst I tried to collect my thoughts. Eventually, I rang my mother.

‘Can we come round?’ I said, and then Mal drove us there.

‘Won’t have this car much longer,’ he said, trying to ease the tension with conversation. ‘Now I’ve got the excuse to get a bike when I come back from the States.’

‘Oh yes,’ I said absently. ‘I saw you the other day.’

‘Borrowed it for a test drive. Always fancied a Ducati. Suzie hated the idea, but, well, you know …’

‘You’re a long time dead,’ I said.

‘Indeed.’ He pulled out into the road.

Behind us, another car turned its engine on. I refused to look. I knew it was that witch Suzanne and I didn’t even care.

I couldn’t talk to Mal, I had nothing left to say. All I cared about right now was my daughter.

This had to end. This had to end forever.

‘
P
lease
,’ I beg, as I walk out into the dark, freezing morning, half-blinded by the street lights, ‘can you check on the whereabouts of my mother and daughter?’

And I give them Sid’s address and his mobile number. They put me in the back of the police car, although they do nothing dramatic like handcuffing me, and no one in Holland Park takes much notice, though you’d think they’d all be hanging out of their windows. The rich have more to hide than one might expect, perhaps. I am driven past the Royal Opera House to Bow Street, where they seat me in a small soulless room and bring me tea in a plastic cup. Then they question me about the fire.

‘I know nothing about it,’ I insist with vehemence. ‘All I know is, we went to bed, and then I went to get some painkillers for Emily from the car. And by the time I got back to the room, the fire alarms were going and I couldn’t open the door.’

‘What door?’

‘The bedroom door. It was locked, or wedged – like, from the inside.’

‘It’s too early to say why the door wouldn’t open, if indeed we will ever be able to tell,’ the thin-haired policeman called DS Kelly says. ‘The fire played havoc with the automated locking systems.’

‘Whatever the reason, the key-card didn’t work.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes I’m sure.’ But the truth is it’s hard to remember things clearly about the terrifying chain of events. The truth is, Emily and I had shared a bottle of wine at dinner that night; I was a little drunk by bed-time.

One thing is clear though: my guilt now is all-consuming.

‘And you say you left the room of your own volition?’

‘Emily asked me to get her pills from the glove-box of her Jeep. She had a migraine. Too much red wine, probably.’

‘So why did you run away?’ DS Kelly asks. He has a lot of dried egg-yolk on his tie, I notice. ‘Why run when all it makes you look is guilty?’

‘Because I think … thought …’ I am so tired, I can’t even think in correct tenses. ‘I thought that someone was trying to kill
me
,
and I needed to get to my daughter.’

‘Who would want to kill you?’

‘I … I don’t know.’ I don’t want this man to think I am any crazier than he already does. I want to get out and get to Polly and then I can deal with the accusations and suspicions. ‘Lots of reasons. It’s been a very stressful time. And on the way to the hotel, someone tried to run us off the road.’

He refers to his notes.

‘Yes, I can see that you made a complaint about that in Tavistock. Two days ago?’

‘Yeah, I did. Which no one took remotely seriously.’

‘You mentioned your husband.’

‘Yes, I did,’ I say reluctantly. ‘But they just ignored me.’

‘We’ll look into it.’

‘What’s the point?’ I shake my head with incredulity. ‘It’s a bit bloody late now.’

There’s a knock at the door and a small wiry man sticks his head round the door.

‘A word, Sarge?’

DS Kelly excuses himself and goes outside for a moment. When he comes back in he says, ‘You’ll be relieved to know that my colleagues have seen your daughter, and she is safe and well.’

I feel an uncontrollable tremor pass through my body and my hands start to shake.

‘And my mum?’ I ask.

‘Your mum is fine too, I believe, but she is being checked over at the Royal Free.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not entirely sure. Just a precaution, I think. We’ll see what we can find out as soon as possible.’

I stand up and then I quickly sit down, as I feel the blood drain from my head again.

‘Get a can of Coke from the machine,’ Kelly tells the WPC seated in the corner. ‘And some chocolate.’

‘Look, Mrs Smith,’ he says, when I have myself under control a bit better. ‘I understand this is all traumatic. And there is no evidence at the moment to show you were directly involved with the fire.’

‘Because I bloody wasn’t,’ I am furious. ‘Do you really think I wanted to kill my very best friend in the world? Why would I?’

‘There is that, of course. But—’

The policewoman returns with a Twix and a Coke, which I tear into, suddenly starving.

‘As I was saying, there is a suspicion of arson still,’ he continues carefully. ‘Until the fire chiefs locate the exact cause, there is an element of doubt.’

‘Why?’

‘The fire is believed to have started in the vicinity of your room.’

So I was right. ‘How do you know?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say at this moment in time.’

Why do all policemen speak like a textbook? ‘So? What does that mean for me now? Am I under arrest?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘You’re not. But running away didn’t really help your case. I am obliged to release you now, but I advise you to stay where we can contact you if we need to.’

Suddenly I don’t want the rest of the Twix. ‘I ran because I was scared. I ran to get to my daughter.’ I am so tired, and I don’t care anymore if he believes me. I just want Polly. ‘Please. Where is she now?’

‘At her dad’s in Islington, from what I understand.’

‘What?’ I say and then I stand again. Anger surges. ‘Well, she shouldn’t bloody be. Like I said before, it’s him you should be talking to, not me.’

‘Why? What evidence do you have?’

‘Because he was in St Ives that night. Because I’m sure it was him on that bike.’

‘Right.’ DS Kelly looks, frankly, almost as tired as I feel. ‘Sid Smith was in St Ives at the time of the fire. So what does that prove?’

‘Yeah, which is less than one hundred miles from the hotel we were staying at.’

‘I mean, why would he want to hurt you? Or your daughter?’

‘Because I told him he couldn’t see her. Because he was furious with me. Because he’s got a terrible temper. Because … he’s a mess.’

‘Mrs Smith,’ he says wearily. ‘We are continuing our investigation, I promise you that. Everyone relevant will be questioned.’

‘Please,’ I say, ‘can I phone my daughter? I really need to speak to her.’

Jolie answers.

‘Where’s Sid?’ I ask.

‘Out,’ she says dryly.

‘At this time?’

‘He had to take your mother to the hospital,’ her tone is cold.

‘He took her?’ My world shudders on its axis yet again. ‘Did you see her? Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine I think. Just had some palpitations. She’s knackered, I reckon, and just a bit … you know. Old.’

‘Right,’ I took a deep breath. ‘Can you put Polly on, please?’

‘She’s sleeping.’

‘Please, Jolie. I just need to make sure she’s okay.’

I hear Jolie call Polly, and Polly comes to the phone, her voice blurred with sleep.

‘Pol,’ I say, and as she says a bleary ‘Yes?’ my eyes fill with tears and I have never ever wanted anything so much as to be able to pull her down the phone-line to me. I bite my lip savagely to stop myself weeping at her.

‘Where are you, Mummy?’ she says. ‘I meeted Minnie Mouse. And I got a lollipop about the same size as my head, but then I dropped it and it cracked in half.’

‘Brilliant. I’m coming now, darling. You go back to bed, and I’ll be there in no time.’

I get off the phone and there’s blood in my mouth, my own blood. DS Kelly jumps guiltily because he’s been trying to cram down the remains of a Scotch egg that he thinks I haven’t noticed.

‘Can I go now?’ I ask, and he nods his thin-haired head.

‘Just don’t disappear again, please,’ he repeats. ‘We need to be able to contact you.’ I’m sure he’s eyeing up the end of my Twix as I leave.

They offer me a lift, which I accept.

And it’s only as I get out of the police car on Upper Street and thank them, and walk down Cross Street towards Sid’s house, and stand outside the door, finger on the bell – it’s only then that it dawns on me.

That bracelet lying on Randolph’s windowsill. The diamond one. I’d seen it before. It was Jolie’s.